


Slice of Life

by MayaTL



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birds, Disney, Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Humor, M/M, Snakes, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 05:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20092306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaTL/pseuds/MayaTL
Summary: Summary was too long to fit, so I put it in the notes!





	Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [altruistic-skittles](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=altruistic-skittles).

> Author’s Note: This fic is inspired by @altruistic-skittles on Tumblr. All worldbuilding credit goes to them, I only stitched the ideas together in writing.
> 
> Summary:
> 
> "Basically, Virgil and Patton are the proud parents of Logan and Roman, and they’ve recently moved into a new neighborhood. Their neighbors are all weird but nice (and they swear one is a cryptid), they have no idea how they raised such c o m p e t i t i v e children but they love them no matter what, and just trying to get through life.
> 
> Like, Patton is that supportive stay-at-home dad you see at like everything, and the kids all know him by name and call him [activity] Dad.
> 
> Virgil is a nurse and just got a job at the local hospital, hence the move, and probably hasn’t slept in a few days because everything has been stressing him out.
> 
> Roman is a 16 year old drama queen, more theatrical than a Broadway play, failing math but when in his life is he going to need the Pythagorean theorem??? and just driving Virgil all kinds of nuts.
> 
> Logan is the 14 year old prodigy, probably wrote a 10 page essay on why his parents should let him buy the entire series of “Elementary,” and hates whenever Patton shows up at his debate meetings because “oh my god dad you can’t just yell “get ‘em Lolo!” in the middle of a debate??”
> 
> Thomas is their neighbor on the right, has practically been living in the same house since he was born (his parents let him have it when they moved), and is Roman’s drama teacher/creative writing teacher/very concerned as to why Logan took creative writing.
> 
> Deceit is their neighbor on the left, runs and works at a reptile sanctuary in town, and s w e a r s his giant python “Monty” keeps escaping on its own and he is not letting it out to sunbathe on Virgil’s car whenever Virgil has to work in the afternoon.
> 
> Remy is a 19 year old college drop-out who spends most of his time talking on the phone outside at 3 am rather L O U D L Y to his best friend Toby, who spends weekends at his house getting smashed on apple juice.
> 
> Picani is a therapist that works in Virgil’s hospital, and Virgil uses him as an advice column when things are getting a little too much, because he has the same calming aura that Patton does."

"Virgil~"

It's barely above a whisper, but he groans anyway and sinks into the pillow like dead weight. He swears he hears someone giggle just above him, and the lazy haze of sleep blooms into warmth over his heart.

"Virgil, honey," he feels a hand on his shoulder that gives it more of a gentle nudge than a shake, "get up. You'll miss breakfast."

The prospect of waking up just makes him settle down even deeper under the comfy blankets.

Truth be told his brain had probably kicked into gear a good while ago, but once the dreaded feeling of expectation that his alarm would be blaring into his ears any minute had passed without coming to fruition, he hadn't questioned any of it and simply gone back to sleep.

He doesn't know if he's actually gotten any rest since, but the fact that his mind is a foggy blank space probably alludes to a yes.

The mattress dips beside him and the hand on his shoulder resumes its shaking—definitely a shake this time.

"Virgil~" they say, stretching the word like it's a song lyric, and he can hear the smile in their voice even through his sleep clouded mind. "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead~"

He groans again—though it comes out more like a whine—and tries to wiggle out of the hand's reach. There's another giggle, and this time he grudgingly opens his eyes just enough to muster a glare, but even that's half-hearted and reduced useless when the offending figure leans down and plants a kiss on the tip of his nose.

He laughs softly, reaches up to rub at his eyes, and the steady warmth in his chest flares when the source of said warmth laughs back, beautiful and genuine and music to his ears even after nearly two decades of hearing it every day.

"Five more minutes?" he tries, raspy with morning voice, but even as he's saying it he's already sitting up and stretching his stiff muscles.

His answer is a peck on the cheek this time, and he can see Patton's entire face break into a smile out the corner of his eye when he leans into the touch.

That reminds him, their anniversary's coming up. He makes a mental note to get something ready in advance, even if that won't be for a few months now.

"What time is it...?" he mumbles and reaches for his phone, effectively draping himself across the bed.

"Kids are already up and about." Patton offers as he rises from the bed and goes to open the curtains.

"Wow, I outlasted Roman's beauty sleep? That's a first." he squints through the sudden flood of light and gapes at his phone screen until he's sure his eyes might roll out of their sockets. "Breakfast?? Pat, it's nearly noon."

Patton gives him a sheepish look, but his smile doesn't falter. "Brunch then? We've all had breakfast except for you and Ro—Lolo and I already had pancakes. Roman thought I _batter _go wake you before you turned into Sleeping Beauty—"

He snorts, both at the pun and the implication; sounds like his eldest alright.

"—and he wanted to make his own breakfast. I'll go get some leftovers ready for you, yeah?"

"If there are any leftovers..." he mumbles under his breath, before it's silenced by another kiss.

"You know Roman is too worried about his physique for that and Logan doesn't approve of pancakes in the morning. I barely got him to eat his share." Patton smiles, and it's crooked and beautiful and the sunlight beaming through the windows brings out his freckles and Virgil gets this inexplicable urge to kiss every single one of them. "Take your time getting ready, you haven't been sleeping much for the past week and I don't want you falling asleep at the table again."

He chuckles, standing up and stretching some more; he can hear the birds chirping downstairs when Patton opens the door on his way out.

Someone that sounds suspiciously like his son is talking more loudly than is necessary on the phone and he swears it's a habit he only picked up after they moved; he must've stayed up late and gotten friendly with that Remy kid at some point, because Virgil knows his_ 'beauty sleep'_ is more of an excuse to sleep in rather than an actual concern with beauty.

Well... knowing Roman, it's actually probably both.

"Oh! I almost forgot," he hears his husband, who sounds like he's halfway down the stairs, "Thomas told me yesterday that his car broke down!"

Again?

Virgil groans. He should probably ask Emile for some lucky crystals or whatever he's into these days, their soft-hearted neighbour could sure use it. That man has such a knack for trouble that sometimes Virgil finds himself wondering how he hasn't burned down his house yet.

Would be a shame too, apparently it's been in the family for generations.

"Do you mind if I drive them to the theatre today? Ro agreed to extra practice hours and his whole group of friends wants to come see how the big play's coming along!!"

Of course he did, and of course they do.

"Nah, I'll do it." he says, even though that's the last thing he wants to do today. Not that his other options are much more exciting; he mostly just feels like sleeping the whole day through. "I've got a shift in about three hours anyway, might as well waste a bit of gas."

"You're working? I thought you had weekends free??"

He pulls out some sweats and a simple black T and heads to the bathroom to turn on the shower. His work clothes are already laid out for once, look at him being productive.

"It's just a small shift, Pat, I took it up so I could have less overtime. It's a compromise."

He can hear the underlying tone beneath the innocent question, the silent implication that if his boss is screwing him over Patton can and will physically fight them, because for all his fun loving self he's also dreadfully overprotective.

He knows Patton's not convinced, but he's also learned that Patton still puts a lot more trust in him than he ever expects to receive, and just like that Virgil suddenly feels an overwhelming sense of belonging.

He loves this kind, beautiful, incredible, perfect man that he shares his life with so much he vaguely wonders if he's legally, ethically and morally allowed to marry him again.

Patton laughs again, and so does Virgil when he realizes he's spoken out loud.

How did he ever get so lucky?

*

Patton walks in on the sight of his eldest son pacing a hole into the kitchen floor, a piece of toast in one hand and a bunch of disorderly papers in the other, with his phone squished between his shoulder and his ear.

"Right?! I would make for a brilliant prince!!" he tries to get out between a mouthful of toast and jam, flailing the papers around like they were the ones who didn't give him the part. "Thomas is totally underestimating my incredible acting skills, the audition I gave was practically flawless!!"

"Or perhaps your ego has finally rendered all your other brain functions useless and you are living under the misguided assumption that you are better than anyone at everything you do."

"Nobody asked _you_ to speak, Microsoft Nerd!"

Logan doesn't even lift his eyes from the book he's reading. As a matter of fact he flips the page over, looking utterly and purposefully disinterested in the tantrum of his older brother, who is currently at risk of choking on his food if the fact that his entire face looks like it's gotten sunburn is any indication.

"No, but you are yelling rather loudly and I am trying to enioy a quiet morning lecture." he adds, manoeuvring his cup from its place on the table to take a sip of tea without breaking the narrative he's currently engrossed in. "Not that anyone ever gets any peace and quiet in this household when you're home."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Play nice, kiddos." Patton chides as he walks in, opening the fridge to take out a rather large stack of pancakes and some orange juice. "And Roman, quit talking with your mouth full."

Roman quietly mutters something like _'gimme a sec Val'_ before dropping the papers—which Patton assumes are pages of his current script, by the neon highlighter marks he catches a glimpse of—into a messy pile on the counter, a tactful distance from the sink.

He even makes a show of swallowing to prove that he's not in any life threatening situation before propping the phone right back to his ear.

"Sorry, my dumb brother interrupted me—"

"I'm not the one actively trying to fail math after the semester's hardly begun." there's suddenly a definite edge to Logan's tone and he's giving his brother a stare so cold it's a wonder his head doesn't turn into a block of ice.

Patton knows that tone; if there's anything his little Lolo is insecure about it's his intelligence, no matter how many times he or Virgil assure him that he's not only the smartest one in the family but also one of the smartest in his school. A work friend of Virgil's they invited over once even called him a prodigy, and that must mean something coming from a therapist.

Unfortunately, Roman's impulse of speaking with absolutely no filter is just as immovable, which means their children have raised the term of sibling rivalry to a whole new level.

Patton decides to stop the argument before it's begun.

"_Boys._" they clamp their mouths shut immediately, as he knew they would, but he places his hands on his hips just for a little more authority. "What did I just say?"

_'Play nice?'_ Roman more asks than answers at the same time that Logan lets out a tight _'Play nice.'_.

"Now, what's the right thing to do?"

They sigh in tandem and speak together. "Sorry dad." When he gives them a pointed look they share a glance and give in, both their shoulders dropping the tension simultaneously.

"I'm sorry I called you dumb, I didn't actually mean it..." there's genuine emotion in most of his eldest's apologies, because most of the time he really does blurt out his first thought without considering the consequences and realizes it when his head's in the clear.

"I didn't mean to undermine your creative skills or make you feel inadequate in any way." his youngest is not the most in touch with emotions, but he is smart enough to know when an apology is in order and how to differ between a sincere and insincere one.

He gives them a nod of approval and goes back to putting together a late breakfast, plopping the pancakes into the microwave and reaching into a cupboard for a clean glass. Logan likewise resumes his reading as if nothing had happened; Roman is the only one who settles down, picking up his conversation at a more acceptable volume.

As the pancakes are heating up, he opens another cupboard door and frowns.

"Have any of you seen the honey?"

"_Mhm?_" Roman glances over as he chews around another mouthful of toast with too much jam on it. "Oh, it's over there."

Patton turns to the area he'd vaguely gestured to and spots the bee shaped honey bottle peeking out from behind a very familiar jar of jelly, both items that have long become staples in the kitchen due to Logan's surprising demands. The cap of the jar is undone, and as he swiftly puts it back on his dad reflexes kick in before he can think better of it.

"Who left the jar open?"

The microwave decides to beep at the same moment that Roman abruptly freezes, sticky fingers in his mouth, and he immediately turns to his brother. Logan puts it together in a matter of nanoseconds.

The book tumbles out of his lap.

"Is that my Crofter's?!?"

Seeing that not even his acting skills can provide an escape, Roman spreads his arms in a shrug. "Uh, do you own the company?"

It's difficult to get Logan truly riled up, but Roman does have a habit of biting off more than he can chew. Literally this time.

"You know it's family owned—that's not the point, Roman, it's my food!!"

"Oh come on, you have like fifty jars, you can share."

"You didn't even ask me if I'm willing to share!!"

"I was hungry!!!"

"Dad!!!"

Patton manages to suppress a sigh, but only just. He shoves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his nose for the briefest moments.

Honestly, he loves his children unconditionally, but sometimes, on occasion—and he would never in a million years ever admit this to anyone except maybe Virgil—sometimes he loves them a lot more when they're in separate rooms.

On separate floors.

With their doors closed.

*

"Roman!"

Virgil can hear Patton enthusiastically greeting their neighbour outside, and then Thomas' equally enthusiastic response carries into the house through the wide open front door.

"Get your things, we're going to be late!"

He picks up one of the pillows on the couch, brows knitting together tighter when he doesn't find what he's looking for, and he runs another hand through his hair, further messing up the strands that he had tried to brush down earlier.

Logan doesn't even acknowledge him from where he's sitting, the earlier book back in his lap.

"We're driving the boss, pops. It's literally impossible for me to be late."

His son is in the corner of the room, cooing at the tiny bird perched onto his finger while the other, larger one stares at him from the back of the armchair with what could only be described as contempt.

Much to the despair of both himself and his youngest, Roman had persuaded Patton on the very day they moved into buying him not one, but _two_ pets, albeit on the promise that he would be the one to take care of them.

Of all the things he could have gotten, his eldest had to choose birds.

Virgil would sooner swear off coffee altogether than admit that the feathered troublemakers have actually grown on him.

"Okay, _I'm_ going to be late, which means I'll have to work late, which dad won't be happy about and you know that if he's upset we're all going to be upset." his fidgeting is probably giving off bad vibes, because Baby Blue lets out a particularly pitiful chirp and flies over to proceed making a nest out of his already unruly hair.

Baby Blue. Because _'the birds in Snow White totally count shut up Logan'._

"And here I was hoping I could actually turn up to work looking normal for once." he sighs, while Roman pouts like a kicked puppy.

"Guys, Thomas is waiting for you outside!" Patton lets them know as he peeks out from behind the door, eyes darting immediately to his husband's head.

Baby Blue tweets and makes itself more comfortable. Virgil snorts and cracks a smile, trying not to flinch when Patton squeals, taking a picture with the flash on; he's probably running late anyway, might as well indulge.

"Ugh, fine, have it your way." Roman relents, arms crossed and pout firmly in place. "But Zazu will be jealous if I don't give him a proper goodbye!"

Zazu. Because '_I know a macaw is not the same as a hornbill shut up and let me live Logan'_.

Zazu, who Virgil is sure would have raised his eyebrows in the most condescending way possible if birds had eyebrows, glides over to the couch to perche himself on Logan's shoulder and starts picking at his feathers, as if Roman weren't even in the room.

His eldest splutters indignantly, and a twitch of the lips is the only sign his youngest gives of finding it amusing.

Virgil doesn't think Zazu is actually capable of showing any emotion other than indifference—he's not even sure if that _is_ an emotion—but the fact that the bird tolerates Logan the most drives Roman up a wall.

"Roman." Virgil says, handing the tiny blue bird to Patton, who's making eyes at it like it's the cutest thing he's ever seen next to maybe that dog down the street. "Things. Car. Now."

Roman huffs, marching out the room like he's been told to do the impossible, and if he wasn't his kid Virgil would have called him a childish brat the moment he opened his mouth. Spoiled too, because Patton does spoil him and he seems to think himself a prince thanks to it.

Luckily he loves his kids, even if they sometimes drive _him_ up a wall.

"You were looking for something, dad?" Logan's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. His eyes haven't moved from his book and he sounds about as bored as Zazu looks.

"Oh, right." he snaps his fingers. "Have you seen my keys?"

*

Thomas very nearly drops his phone and falls over when a tiny bird flies into his face, with a trill that sounds suspiciously like a greeting. He chuckles, after the initial surprise, and he could swear the little thing actually smiles back.

"Aww, aren't you the cutest!" he holds out his finger and is again surprised when it lands on it as if it's the most natural thing ever.

"Oh, it likes you! Roman's the only one who's got it to do that so far!"

He turns to Patton, who's wearing one of those smiles that bring out the green in his eyes. There's no shortage of those, that man is such a bright ray of sunlight that Thomas wonders how it is that he didn't go blind when Patton showed up on his doorstep that first day, brandishing an infectious grin and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"Really? Well, then I'm honoured."

The bird twitters, looking straight at him, like Thomas is expected to tweet back. No wonder Roman talks like he's in a Disney movie—Thomas waved at him from the window once when he saw him picking up the mail and got _'greetings and fair morning, neighbour!'_ in return.

Honestly, he loves that kid, Roman often reminds him of himself. If he were to shave off about twelve years they would be almost the same person.

Patton nods proudly, as if he's reading his mind. He didn't say that out loud, did he?

"I usually hold it like this." he cups his palms together and the bird instantly glides into his hands, nestling into the warmth. It's the most precious thing Thomas has seen all month, next to maybe that cute dog down the street.

"Sometimes it sits on the spine of the book Logan's reading and tries to read with him, it's adorable!"

Thomas laughs, running a finger over its tiny back, and they both practically swoon when it tilts its head back and happily receives all the affection.

"What about Virgil? Do they get along?"

It was the middle of the day the first time Thomas met Virgil, but Virgil looked as if he'd only been awake for about half an hour and had loathed getting out of bed so much that he'd had to drink five straight black cups of coffee just to be able to stand on his own two feet.

Thomas had swallowed his words and the encounter had been beyond awkward; the only consolation he has is that Virgil had looked just as uncomfortable.

Patton's entire face softens at the question, and it's safe to say Thomas would sooner cut pizza out of his diet before he told Patton that his husband doesn't seem like the friendliest person.

"He acts all grumpy about it, but he loves them really." he runs his fingers over its wings and the bird definitely smiles. "He joked about getting a haircut because _apparently _his hair is perfect nest material, isn't that right, Blue?"

He coos at the little bundle of feathers, and Blue has the gal to be so adorable as to look sheepish. Thomas blinks more times than is necessary and thinks that maybe he's the one who's been watching too much Disney.

"Nest...?"

Patton pulls out his phone, unlocks the screen and shows him a picture.

"Oh my goodness that's so cute!!"

As they're gushing over the tiny thing, Roman suddenly comes stumbling out the front door with two dress bags in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, a backpack hanging from the crook of his elbow and a pen tucked behind his ear.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sanders!! I hope the day finds you in good grace?"

"You know, you don't have to call me that, Roman." Thomas replies while Blue flutters over and tries, to no avail, to help the poor kid.

"Pfshhfpff!"

Thomas avoids mentioning that his vacuum cleaner made that noise once.

"Nonsense! Manners are underrated!!"

"You need help, Ro?" Patton asks, taking the bags before his son can answer and folding them neatly.

Thomas seizes that moment to ask Roman about the papers, because he doesn't remember the script he gave them having that many pages, and Virgil shows up just as Roman is struggling to explain to him why he deemed it necessary to make some improvements to the dialogue without sounding like he's insulting his writing skills.

It's not very successful.

Virgil puts one foot on the doormat and then swears, very loudly, throwing both of his hands up.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?"

It's a warm outside for an autumn day, with beautiful weather, barely a trace of clouds in the sky. Virgil's car is still in the driveway, all black and shiny except for a few rainbow stickers plastered on the doors, but only half of it is shadowed by the leaves of the tree in the front yard.

Which means the other half has been sitting in direct sunlight the entire day.

Which explains the giant python currently lounging on the roof of the car, sunbathing like there's no tomorrow and looking extremely bored.

Roman takes one look at the car, lets out a very manly shriek and jumps back about two whole feet, startling both Thomas and the bird, while Virgil promptly loses every ounce of chill he may have once possessed in his body.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE—I'M SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT!!" he gestures so wildly at the snake that it's a wonder his hands don't spontaneously combust. "CAN I HAVE JUST ONE FUCKING DAY WHERE EVERYTHING GOES RIGHT?!?"

Patton sighs, crosses his arms and mutters _'language'_ in a defeated voice, before leaning into Thomas' space. "Has it been there the entire time?"

"I think so, yeah." Thomas shrugs, with all the casualness of someone who's having a conversation about the weather with his friendly next door neighbour while said neighbour's husband initiates a one-man shouting match with a snake. "I mean, it was already there when I got here."

"It looks really tame, for a snake... oh, like a puppy!!" considering Patton's eyes light up like beacons Thomas safely assumes it's the first time he's made that comparison. "Do you think it'll come if I call it??"

"No, I don't think so. I tried that a while back and it didn't work, pretty sure Mr. Slimy Boi doesn't train his snakes." he says, smiling when Patton giggles behind his hand at the silly nickname.

He honestly can't remember where he got it from—he said it once in front of Logan and received a whole lecture about how snake scales are just smooth and they don't secrete slime—but it's stuck with him since childhood.

At some point Thomas forgot the guy's actual name, so he officially became Mr. Slimy Boi. To him, the rest of the neighbourhood, and everyone else who was unfortunate enough to ask him who his unsettling neighbour was and how many snakes is he hiding in that house and _why is he wearing a bowler hat that's so weird._

Thomas may be all about loving thy neighbour,  
but he really didn't have it in him to argue with Virgil when he claimed they have a cryptid living next to them.

Thomas has also been here his entire life and could swear that man looks exactly the same as he did twenty something years ago.

"I'm also pretty sure he wouldn't listen to you anyway, that slippery old—I accidentally kicked my favourite football over the fence once and it came out of nowhere and just... ate it. And refused to spit it out."

"Huh." Patton says, brows furrowing in thought. "How long ago was that?"

"I..." Thomas drags the syllable, scratching the back of his head. "... don't remember? Now that I think about it, it could have been a different snake that just looked exactly like it... how long do snakes live?"

"Morelia Amethistina, commonly known as the amethystine python." Logan, who probably heard his brother's manly scream of terror, declares as he pokes his head out the doorway. "In captivity they tend to have an average lifespan of fifteen to twenty years, but if provided with ideal conditions they could live to about twenty five."

"Aww, thanks Lolo!" Patton clasps his hands tohether and grins at his youngest with so much pride that Logan actually ducks his head, presumably to hide a blush.

"Oh my God, Pat, don't encourage him." Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose and the python, who has ignored every single word to come out of Virgil's mouth so far, looks awfully smug. "Soon he'll want to do studies on it or something and a pet snake is where I draw the line. And we're not going any closer to that house than is necessary either!"

Roman makes a vague noise somewhere between agreement and disgust. "Dad, it's staring at me with its creepy snake face and I don't like it, make it go away!!"

"And how, pray tell, do you propose I do that??"

"Poke it with a stick, throw it over the fence, I don't know, you're supposed to be the adult here!!"

Virgil takes a very, very deep breath and analyses the nest of pure muscle engulfing half of his car for a good, solid ten seconds. "Lo, how much does this thing weigh?"

"About ninety pounds on average..." the boy adjusts his glasses and squints. "But this one seems to be quite a large breed, so I would place it around one hundred and twenty four."

"Yeah," Virgil says, hands on his hips, "not happening."

"Um, excuse me?" Thomas is staring at his phone, finger raised to get everyone's attention. "I hate to interrupt and I don't wanna seem ungrateful, but we're running a little bit late?? The rest of the group's already there."

Roman lets out a distressed whine, the kind that would end an argument with Patton immediately and earn him multiple of whatever it is he was asking for.

Exhibit A: if Virgil hadn't put his foot down at two birds his son would have turned their entire house into an animal shelter and Patton wouldn't have done a single thing about it.

And they _just _moved.

"Virgil, sweetheart, maybe it'll move if you ask nicely?" Patton walks up to his husband and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Virgil visibly leans his entire weight into the touch.

Thomas doesn't know them well enough to judge yet, but he gets the impression that Virgil is a completely different person with Patton around.

"Perhaps Roman should attempt to talk to it, since he so vehemently believes that Disney princes are real." Logan suggest in his driest voice, which isn't too many tones away from his regular voice.

Roman twists his head around so violently Thomas swears he hears a snap.

"DID YOU JUST BESMIRCH THE NAME OF DISNEY?!?!"

"Now kiddos, what did I say about playing nice—"

"You mean the company tasked with creating fictional characters? I sincerely hope you know the definition of that word, Roman."

"HOW DARE YOU, YOU HEATHEN!!"

"Roro, calm down now—"

"You take creative writing, surely you must have the vocabulary."

"YOU ARE NO BROTHER OF MINE!!!"

Thomas takes turns to stare, first at Patton, who's trying to talk his kids out of throwing fists, then at Virgil, who looks like he's praying to every God from every religion to take pity on him and end his suffering...

And then at the python, who, in the meanwhile, calmly slithers off the car, through a loose board in the fence, across the yard next door and into the house through an open window.

Blue lands on his hand and watches the screen as Thomas enters the group chat and writes a message announcing that they're going to be late.

Or, well, later than they already are.

*

When the humans start babbling nonsense at each other and disturbing the peace, the snake gets cranky and decides to go back to its human cave, where it's nice and quiet.

There's so many snakes resting in one spot that it looks like the living room floor is coming alive.

The python gets several begrudged greetings from his nest-mates, a few from the ones bathing under the lamps and even less from the ones that blend in with the vines growing over the walls.

The small ones are venomous and they generally don't play nice with others, but size demands respect in this particular household, especially for a constrictor, and their way of showing it is to generally keep to themselves.

There's the sound of a stove being turned on, causing a few heads to raise and a few tongues to dart out, tasting air filled with potential. Gleefully, the python wagers it's about the right time for an afternoon snack.

It's not long before a dark haired man strides soundlessly into the room, soft socks on soft carpet navigating through the mass of lounging bodies like it's second nature. His clothes are made for weather colder than today offers, and the hot cup of tea he's carrying leaves a trail of steam behind as he makes his way to the window.

The python coils around his ankles lazily, like a happy cat rubbing against the legs of its owner.

He pulls back the curtain just in time to see his neighbour's black car backing out of the driveway and speeding up the street. The other two wave until the car has gone out of view, then head back inside, leaving the sidewalk barren.

His lips stretch into a smile equally as amused as it is sinister, and he slides a gloved hand over the head of the python, who seems exceedingly proud that its efforts to be as big of an inconvenience as possible are being recognized and appreciated.

"Humans are most amusing in their antics" he practically purrs, turning bright yellow eyes towards his scaly companion, "are they not, Monty?"

Monty hisses contentedly and slithers away from the window, obediently following him back into the kitchen.

Most amusing indeed.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
